


Worth Every Gil

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, But Mostly Smut, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Sex Worker AU, Virgin!Prompto, idk - Freeform, possibly too much smut, sex 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Some people have it all. A nice place, a loving partner, a great sex life.And then there's Prompto, who's so desperate for some attention he's willing to pay to get it.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 148





	Worth Every Gil

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be finished by Promptio Week Day 3, but as usual I'm behind schedule. Anyway, the prompt was "value," so here's some smut to go with it. 
> 
> Also, I don't know if there's such a thing as 'too much porn' but uhhh. Yeah. Idk, enjoy maybe?

Prompto really can't believe he's doing this. 

It’s ten to eight, and his nerves are already making him a jittery mess. He can’t sit still on the worn couch in his living room. Every few minutes, he’s up and pacing around again, occasionally glancing at his phone or at the clock to make sure time is still passing at all. Maybe this was a bad idea, he thinks for at least the millionth time. It’s probably better to call it off, save some poor dude the trip out here for what, in his mind, will only amount to disappointment. 

Maybe if he cancels now, he can still get some of his money back.

Noctis doesn't know about this stupid plan of his, and, by some miracle, neither does Iggy. They'd both probably just try to talk him out of it if they did. Tell him he was being unreasonable, that he's a perfectly eligible thirty-year old and all he needs to do is wait for the right one to come along. 

Well, that’s easy for them to say. They have each other, from as far back as any of them could remember. Neither of them have ever had to worry about the dating game, or stupid apps like Elixrr, or feeling like an absolute failure in a city full of people hooking up with everyone but him. Neither of them know what it’s like to be thirty and single -- perpetually single, he might add -- or how lonely it gets some nights with no one to hold. 

That’s what eventually led him to the Honeybee in the first place. It’s a sort of online agency with a reputable escort service, one which promises complete anonymity and discretion -- as well as satisfaction. The latter was what Prompto had been after when he signed up for an account and scheduled a home visit. Yeah, maybe he’d been a little drunk when he’d made the decision to essentially pay for a night of sex with a stranger. But he had also just gotten back from third-wheeling at Ignis and Noct’s place again, and his mood was about as low as it could be. He’d thought, to hell with it. If he couldn’t find someone to love him, he could at least hire someone to fuck him. 

But now, chewing his thumbnail anxiously as he stares at the empty chat window on his phone screen, he’s pretty certain he can’t go through with this at all. 

A notification chimes on the phone in his hand, nearly startling him right out of his skin. He swipes to open the message, only to find that a user he doesn’t recognize - someone called Dawnhammer - is already approaching his front door. 

[7:59] Hey

This is your honeybee for the evening

You good to meet now?

No. No, definitely not! Prompto panics. Considers simply throwing his phone out of the nearest window before he has to actually let this guy into his house. Oh gods, how is one supposed to even answer the door for an escort? What can he possibly say that won’t make things awkward between them right from the start? 

The doorbell rings before he has time to make up his mind on the matter. There’s no backing out of this now. If nothing else, he’s got to get the guy off his porch in case the neighbors see. He gulps in the entrance. Flips the lock, and puts on his best fake smile as he pulls to the door open to greet his ‘guest.’ 

And promptly releases whatever he’d been about to say in a wheeze of air. 

The man standing in front of him is…. Well, he’s…. Prompto isn’t sure there are even words enough to describe how stunningly perfect he is. Physically, he could be a model, like something that just walked off the front cover of a Dude’s Weekly or a Fitness Junkie magazine. He’s tall, with broad, powerful shoulders and biceps that flex when he waves in casual greeting. Beneath the thin, sleeveless excuse for a shirt he’s wearing, Prompto can practically count his abs -- two, four, eight pack -- below a chest that looks like it’s made of two Extra Firm pillows. 

Amber eyes glint gold in the porch light. They're fixed on him closely. “Are you Quicksilver?” 

His voice is about as rugged as Prompto might have expected. The sound of it sends interest rushing to his face in the form of heat. “U-uh. Yes. That’s me. Well, that’s my account name. On your escort app,” he clarifies, just in case it’s still unclear for either of them why this god-like man is here standing in front of him. “And you are…?” 

“Gladiolus. But call me Gladio.” He’s so smooth, reaching out to offer his hand even as his full lips curve up in a smirk. Prompto thinks it’s almost unfair. This guy has to know how hot he is. No one oozes this much confidence without the muscle to back it up. And when it comes to muscle, Prompto’s pretty sure this guy wrote the damn book. 

“Cool. Gladio, got it.” Reaching out, he accepts the handshake for only the briefest of moments. Is that weird? It’s probably weird. This guy is presumably here to pound his ass into next week, and he’s too nervous to even hold hands? “D-do you want to, um. Come in?” 

Again, Gladio simply smiles. “I’d love to.” 

Alright, Argentum. You’ve really done it. You’ve got a real live prostitute in your house, what now? Talk about the weather? Offer him a drink? He glances back to make sure Gladio’s still behind him, and is surprised to see him politely unlacing his boots at the door. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s mostly hardwood floors in here, so cleaning’s a breeze.” 

“It’s fine,” that deep bass assures him. Gladio places his second boot next to his first, and stretches back up to full height. “I find it’s easier to take them off from the start. Saves time later.” 

He doesn’t have to finish that thought. The implication is clear enough. Prompto, swallowing, can only nod. “Yeah. Of course. Totally. Y-you want a drink or something? I think I’ve got some beers left in the fridge, if you--” 

“Sorry, I’m not really supposed to drink on the job. Liability crap,” he shrugs. 

“Right.” 

“Water would be cool though. And a name.” 

Halfway into the kitchen, Prompto blinks back at him. “A...name?” 

“Yeah,” Gladio smirks. He leans against the wall of the dining room, folding his massive arms across his chest, and Prompto notices for the first time that the tattoos he glimpsed earlier go right down to his wrists. “Unless you want me calling you ‘Quicksilver’ all night? It’s fine. Some people are into that sort of thing.” 

“I-I…. No. No, my name’s Prompto.” His cheeks are burning hot enough to practically melt off of his face. “Let me get you that water. Um, have a seat, if you want.” 

Disappearing into the kitchen, he’s grateful for a chance to catch his breath. Not even one minute into the night, and he’s already acting like he’s never met another human before. Hopeless, he says to himself, shakily filling a cup at the sink. No wonder no one wants to date you.

Gladio is sitting on the edge of one of the dining chairs when Prompto returns with the drink. He looks up, smiles, and sets his phone face down on the table. “Thanks. Mind joining me? You look like you could use a good seat.” 

He winks over the edge of the cup, and Prompto forces an awkward laugh at the joke. It’s hard to appreciate innuendos when his stomach is busy twisting itself into knots. “Sure. I’ll just sit...over here.” He takes the chair on the opposite side of the table, not missing the way Gladio’s eyes seem to study him, or how those lips twitch down in a frown. 

“Prompto. Let me ask you something. You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” 

Is it that obvious? Prompto supposes it is, and slowly shakes his head. 

Across from him, Gladio chuckles. “Thought so. That explains the water.” He drains his cup before Prompto can even ask him what’s wrong with offering a guest a drink, and gets to his feet. Closes the distance between them in a single stride, and kneels down so that he’s looking up at a slight angle to meet Prompto’s eyes. 

“It’s normal to be nervous. I get it. But I’m a professional at what I do, and I’d like to show you there's nothing to worry about." From so close up, Prompto can see him -- truly see him -- so clearly now. Gentle amber eyes, twin scars crossed over his left brow that he mistook for shadows before; luscious lips and the dark hairs along his jaw, which look like they'd tickle in the best sort of way if Prompto runs his fingers through them. Then his neck, the corded muscles at his shoulders, more tattoos that disappear deep inside his shirt. Will Prompto get a chance to see them all? Another timid thrill shudders up his spine at the thought.

Gladio seems to approve of the attention. "Let's go sit a little closer together, yeah?" 

He leads Prompto back out into the living room, where the sofa makes a cozy loveseat for two. Gladio sits first, then guides Prompto down to snuggle in at his side. It's so…unexpectedly romantic. Especially with the heavy arm resting along the back of the cushions, a barely there touch inviting Prompto into the embrace. He's acutely aware that Gladio is holding back for his sake. Do all of his 'clients' need this much babying, or do they usually jump right into bed with him? They'd be stupid not to, Prompto thinks as he feels large fingers gently stroke down the length of his arm. Gladio's too perfect to resist. 

"Hey, you alright?" Soft eyes are watching him again. In fact, they haven't stopped watching him since they sat down, and Prompto's pretty sure his heart can't flutter any faster because of it. "You're tense. Try not to overthink things, okay?" 

"Hah. Yeah. That's kinda...what I do best. One big ball of constant anxiety over here." 

"Hmm. Would this help you relax?" 

Gladio's fingers slide back up his arm to his shoulder, then to the base of his neck. He makes the angle work somehow as his thumbs and forefinger press down into muscles hardened with months of stress. Massaging, loosening, expertly relieving the tension there.

"O-oh. Wow, that's nice," he admits, letting his eyes fall to half mast. "But you don't have to--"

"I'm here for you tonight, Prompto. Whatever you need, whatever you desire, I'm going to make your dreams come true." 

Fuck, that's hotter than it should be, Prompto thinks. Or maybe it's just as hot as Gladio intended. His deep voice, the fingers working his neck into butter -- he can't deny the way his body is starting to react on its own. "Whatever...I desire?" 

"Mm-hmm. No need to be shy. But if it helps, we can start slow." Those magical fingers move up his nape to sink into the roots of his hair. Up, up, rubbing circles into the back of his head until Prompto's breaths are hitching. It feels good. Not just the massage, but being touched at all. It's been so long, and Gladio's too skilled at bringing down his barriers. Each time that hand moves to a new spot under his hair, fresh waves of tingling pleasure are zapping through his body straight down to his toes. 

Can Gladio sense it? His smirk says he hasn't missed a thing. "I usually don't ask this," he starts, tugging a little on Prompto's hair to see how he reacts. Apparently, he likes what he sees. "When was the last time you were intimate with someone?" 

Prompto chews his lip through the distracting sensations. "Uhh…. A while. Like, a really long time." 

"That surprises me. You're cute, Prompto. I bet tons of guys out there would love a chance to sit where I'm sitting right now." 

"Uh, yeah, right. I'm, like, totally unlovable."

"Why do you do that?" He's still smiling, but it's different now as he abandons Prompto's hair in favor of tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. "The self-deprecation thing, I mean. From where I'm looking, you're a hell of a catch." 

Prompto manages a weak smile. He figures this is part of Gladio's job, too. Flirting, being sweet. He knows literally nothing about him, so how could he possibly say things like that? It's just a script, part of the role he's here to play.

Still, hearing those words admittedly strikes something in him, something separate from the logic that reminds him this isn't real. Something in him that wants to believe, even if it's all pretend, that he could be worth loving. Prompto swallows, and sinks down a little further against Gladio's chest. "You're nice." 

"I call 'em like I see 'em, beautiful." Still cupping his face, Gladio chuckles at the deepening blush on freckled cheeks. Without words, he guides Prompto to turn in his direction, and then helps to lift one leg up over his lap.

Prompto's heart is outright pounding. He grips sturdy shoulders for balance, and tries not to settle his weight down too fully on the thighs beneath him. What if he's too heavy? What if Gladio notices the hardness that's been growing in the front of his pants since the massage? 

But the gorgeous man under him merely laughs. "I'm serious, you've got to relax. You're wound up tighter than a chocobo before a race. Here," he says, and brings his hands up to rest on both sides of Prompto's hips. Slowly, gauging the reaction, he inches him down until he's fully seated in his lap. "I love how this feels. Don't you?" 

He does. He really fucking does. It's evident in the way his dick suddenly throbs in the front of his pants, and the pitch of his voice when he finally answers. "Mmm, yeah. You, uh. You have really warm hands." 

"You're helping to warm them up for me, y'know. What else do you like?" 

Prompto allows Gladio to manually roll his hips for him, starting to set a rhythm he can follow on his own. "Your tattoos. They're super hot." 

The sofa is creaking. Gladio smirks, leans forward until his breath is ghosting against the bare skin of Prompto's throat. Gods, he wants those lips on him…! "Thanks. You got any ink, baby?" 

He shakes his head because if he opens his mouth, he doesn't trust what might come out of it. Gladio's too good at this, his voice and the pace their rocking hips are setting too tempting a distraction. Prompto's first instinct is to kiss him. He wants to, badly. But something tells him that's not necessarily party of the deal. Gladio isn't his boyfriend, he's a sex worker. Better to draw that line somewhere visible, or else he's liable to trip right over it and fall in deep.

"You know," Gladio hums, mouth near the base of his ear. "I think you're pretty loosened up now. How about we make ourselves more comfortable? I'm thinking...your bedroom?" 

There it is. Prompto has spent the evening both dreaming about and dreading this part. They'll go upstairs to his room. They'll get undressed. Gladio will do his business, and then he'll leave. A simple transaction, money for a service. No big deal. 

But it is a big deal, at least to him. He's not ready, he can't….

Again, he feels Gladio's breath on his neck as he chuckles. "Still nervous, huh? What would make you feel more comfortable with me?" When he pulls back, he's smiling, and his fingers brush over the bulge in Prompto's pants in question. "Should I take my clothes off? I can dance a little for you if you like." 

"N-no, that's okay," Prompto says quickly, his face burning. He can't imagine having to sit awkwardly while a hot guy like Gladio shows off for him. It's too much. 

But he's persistent. "Would it help if I took control, then? Pretty sure I could carry you, pin you down if you've got a thing for being overpowered."

Prompto doesn't answer. He can't answer, because he's currently so red he's practically on fire. He covers his face with both hands and tries not to combust in humiliation. 

Finally, something clicks. Gladio puts the pieces together -- the nervousness, the anxiety, the inability to put his fantasies into words. And his eyes widen in sudden understanding. "Wait. Prompto? Are you a virgin?" 

The whine he releases is apparently all Gladio needs to hear. He loosens his grip, and gently strokes Prompto's hair until he's ready to peek out from between his fingers. "It's okay. You should've said something. I, uh. I've admittedly never done this with a virgin before…. Are you sure you want your first time to be with someone like me?" 

"I…." He sucks in a breath. "I think so. I mean, you're great. You're really hot, and super nice. But…." 

"But this isn't real." Gladio smiles apologetically. "I know. For what it's worth, I think you're pretty cute and sweet, too. We don't have to do anything you don't want, okay, Prom?" 

Prom. The nickname feels so natural. And he is hornier than a coeurl in heat, even if he's too shy to admit it outloud. Just sitting in Gladio's lap, he could probably come listening to that rumbling bass and feeling those powerful thighs moving under him. 

He does want Gladio, then. He wants this handsome, kind-hearted man to take him upstairs and fuck him out of his mind. But he wants to make sure Gladio gets something out of it, too -- more than just a paycheck. He wants this to be an amazing night for both of them. 

"I want you to teach me," he says in a quiet but steady voice. "And I want to make you feel good, if I can. Am I…allowed to do that?" 

Full lips spread in a wide grin. "'Whatever you desire', Prompto. Why don't we start with how to give a blowjob?" 

They stay in the living room for now. Gladio's already comfortable in the sofa, after all, and Prompto's worried he'll lose his nerve if they don't just get on with it soon. He chews his lip as he follows the instructions. Get down on your knees. Put your hands on my thighs. Look up -- yeah, just like that, you're incredible like this, baby. The praise sounds genuine enough to urge him on, up to the clasp of Gladio's jeans to undo the buttons and zipper there. It gets stuck only once, but Gladio tells him that's part of the fun. 

He pauses for a moment when the sight of Gladio's underwear comes into full display before him. Dark grey boxers, the cotton stretched thin over the curve of his straining cock. And wow is it impressive. Prompto's eyes widen. His tongue dries up in his throat. Above him, a deep chuckle as Gladio reaches down to palm himself for show. "Think you can fit it all?" he asks, teasingly, and Prompto isn't sure how to reply.

I can sure try. 

Rolling down the elastic band of the boxers, the full length is revealed inch by inch. Hot and thick and throbbing with anticipation. As Gladio guides him, Prompto wraps his fingers around the base. A little tighter, tighter, until he's groaning his appreciation in that deep baritone. "Start with your tongue," he says. "We'll take it slow." 

Within the confines of his own clothes, Prompto's aching in sympathy. The first taste of Gladio's skin leaves him salivating, just the right combination of musk and heat to send his blood into overdrive. He licks over the tip, down the length of the underside the way he's seen on the Internet. Lets Gladio's steady breaths set the pace as that cock is guided in between his lips, and he's encouraged to start swallowing it down. 

"Good. Good, don't rush. Fuck, that's nice. Use your tongue, too. Mmh." 

Distantly, Prompto is aware of large fingers carding almost lovingly through his hair as he works. But the majority of his attention is on fitting as much of Gladio's dick in his mouth as he can without gagging. Each time it slips past the back of his tongue (which is often -- he's huge), Prompto's already nervous stomach threatens to jump right out of his throat. But he doesn't want to give up. He doesn't want to disappoint.

"Baby, slow down." Gladio coaxes him back up to gasp in fresh air. "Heh. You're a quick learner, I'll give you that. But there's no need to overdo it. Your pretty mouth feels plenty good as you are." 

He swallows down the spit and precum that covers his tongue, and offers Gladio a smile. "You taste pretty good, too, for the record." 

Amber eyes, glinting in the light, focus on him carefully. "Prompto. Gods, you're cute." 

Prompto responds by sinking his mouth back down onto hot flesh. 

It's impossible to keep track of time. Maybe it's been a few minutes, maybe an hour by the time his jaw begins to ache with effort. Gladio, too, is breathing more erratically, his chest rising and falling heavily beneath the fabric of his shirt. Fingers still alternately clenching and stroking through blond hair until Prompto's practically addicted to the feel of them. One more enthusiastic pass with his lips squeezed tight and his tongue pressed firmly to the underside of that cock, and then Gladio is tugging him off. 

"Fuck, h-hang on," he groans. Against his thigh, his thickly swollen dick twitches, leaks with restraint, but he somehow reigns himself back from the edge. Panting, he looks at Prompto from under heavy lids. "...You've seriously never done that before…?!" 

"I was just doing what you said." 

Again, Gladio releases a low breath. "Then I guess I'm a better teacher than I thought. C'mon. It's your turn now." Fire replaces the fog clouding his eyes. He grins, somewhere between playful and wicked, and delivers a well-placed smack to Prompto's ass as they both stand. The living room has outlived its usefulness now, and with his confidence finally finding a foothold, Prompto leads them both up to his bedroom for a change of scenery.

But Gladio isn't in the mood to simply admire the wallpaper. As soon as the door is closed behind them he's on Prompto again, this time to divest him of his t-shirt. It's up and over his head before Prompto can even yelp, and just as quickly warm hands are moving over his skin in its place. "Any idea how you wanna do this?" Gladio grins. He pinches one pink nipple between his fingers while the others start on skintight jeans. "If not, I've got lots of suggestions." 

"W-what do you wanna do?" Prompto's voice is breaking again, but not with nerves. Gladio's very large, very expert hand has just dipped into the front of his pants to grab his dick, and that more than anything makes it impossible to think. 

"Me?" Gladio pretends to consider for a moment. "If I were the one paying for the night, I'd want to spread you out on that bed like butter, and eat your ass 'til you came from my mouth alone." 

Blue eyes open owlishly. 

"Too much? That's fine. What if we start with some fingers, and see how you feel about taking my dick later?" 

That...sounds more like what Prompto had been expecting, at least. To hear it so bluntly from Gladio's lips, however, is another matter entirely. He's still stammering for a reply when the hand in his pants squeezes tight, and he gives up trying to form words altogether.

"On the bed, beautiful. Tell me if it gets to be too much." That's likely the last warning he's going to get for the night. Gladio is putting trust in him, as much as he's asking for it himself. From here on out, Prompto's going to have to be honest, and speak up about what he wants, and what he needs. It's a lot of pressure, maybe, but knowing the rules is half of the battle.

The room spins. Gladio tips him back onto the mattress, letting his legs hang off the edge at the knee. Prompto's pants are peeled off inch by inch (lesson learned -- definitely wear something less form-fitting next time he plans to get laid) until he's bare before Gladio's gaze. It's admittedly a little embarrassing. Prompto's never had the self-esteem to feel comfortable with his naked body. But…the way Gladio's watching him, his eyes so...hungry. He can't help but let the thrill of it go right to his head.

"You look good enough to eat right up, baby." A red tongue flicks out to lick full lips. "You don't mind if I return the favor and suck you off, do ya?" 

Not like he could say no even if he wants to. Gladio doesn't wait for the answer he already knows, instead dropping to his knees on the carpet at the foot of the bed and blowing a breath of warm air against Prompto's hardened cock. Pleasure ripples outwards, sending his toes and fingers curling around whatever they can reach. With a wink, Gladio tells him to hang onto something -- then takes his entire dick into his mouth fast enough to knock the air right out of him.

Oh gods…! Oh, GODS! The sensations, warm and slick and compressed around him, are dizzying at first. He bites his lip and turns his face into the sheets. It's hard to remember to breathe when all his brain can focus on is the perfect way Gladio's tongue envelopes him within the cavern of his mouth. But thankfully, he receives a brief reprieve -- very brief -- in the form of Gladio pulling away long enough to push him further up the length of the bed.

He's back to work fast, but not without first gripping both of his thighs in one hand each. Palms planted just under his knees, fingers wrapping around for leverage, Gladio bends him nearly in half with his eagerness to get his mouth back on hard flesh. In this position, Prompto can't easily move his own hips, pinned down as they are under Gladio's weight and fervor. But it doesn't matter. In fact, he thinks somewhere in the static his mind is providing, that he likes it better this way. He likes giving up control, likes putting his pleasure in Gladio's (extremely capable) hands. And, if the heady groans spilling out around his cock are any indication, Gladio is into it, too.

Only a few more passes of that expert mouth bring him closer to the edge. As if Gladio can feel it coming, he redoubles his efforts, swallows Prompto back into his throat with every move until, clenching his teeth, he comes on the crest of a wave of pleasure. It crashes through him, lifts his lower back up off the sheets and has his toes curling tight in thin air. Through it all, Gladio remains still, waiting to catch him when he tumbles back down from the peak.

The wave disperses, leaving behind only shallows ripples and swells in its wake. Gradually, Prompto feels his breathing begin to even out, his heart slow to a calm. When he looks around again, the first thing he sees is a pair of warm, amber eyes watching him from the space between his knees. 

"So," Gladio grins, and wipes a stray drop off cum from the corner of his mouth. "On a scale of one to ten, that was at least an eleven, right?" 

"Fuck," is all Prompto can manage in answer.

At least Gladio is patient enough to give him time to recover. Kind of. Sorta. Is it really a recovery if he spends the next few minutes biting his knuckles, watching Gladio gracefully strip out of his clothes? His poor dick certainly doesn't think so. It's still leaking from his climax and already Prompto is getting heated up again. But...who can really blame him? Gladio's body is insane.

There are the muscles, of course, which Prompto could feel under his palms downstairs. And the tattoos, which do indeed stretch all the way down his sculpted back in the form of dark, detailed feathers. Prompto kind of wants to ask about them, but then he's caught off guard. Gladio turns around again to reveal twin silver bar piercings, glinting like hidden treasures in each of his dark nipples. No doubt Prompto is staring -- gaping, even -- with fascination. Will Gladio let him touch them? Could he…maybe put his mouth on them, to see how they feel between his teeth? 

The thought alone is enough to have his tender cock twitching unmistakably back to life in an instant. 

"Like something you see?" Gladio's pants drop down to the floor, and he steps out of them with total confidence. "Do you like everything you see?" 

His answer is half whine, half vigorous nodding. 

"So do I. Think you could do me a favor?" He pauses, waiting for Prompto to utter a breathy yes, anything. "Good. I want you to show off a little for me. Here, use this. It's on the house." There's a chuckle, and something comes flying toward the bed from one of Gladio's pants pockets. Prompto pats the sheets until his hand finds it: a small tube, clear, with a kind of slick liquid that drips onto his fingers when he pops open the cap. 

Freckled cheeks redden with understanding. "You...want me to…?" He flushed again, looking up at the hungry expression on Gladio's face. "While you watch?" 

"You've fingered yourself before, at least, right? Maybe used some toys, some lube to get things going?" Though Prompto knows he shouldn't be embarrassed at this point, he still hesitates before nodding. "Mmhmm. Just show me how you usually do it, baby. I'll jump in when I'm ready." 

Okay. This is fine. Just imagine no one else is here, he thinks to himself. And, to his credit, he gives it his best effort. He scoots himself back towards the pillows, settling in comfortably as if he's got his laptop open beside him. Let's his thighs fall open, and reaches down to spread some of the lube over his perenium and balls. Down into the valley between his ass cheeks, where he hums thoughtfully at how sensitive his skin feels tonight. Must be Gladio's fault, he can't help but smile, and then there's no way he can pretend to ignore the attention being paid from the end of the bed. 

Gladio is watching him closely, but he's not simply standing idly by for the show. In one fist, he's languidly stroking his cock. With the other hand, he's teasing over his chest, squeezing those firm pecs, pinching the pierced buds of his nipples. It's such a fascinating display that now Prompto's unable to look away himself. They're stuck like this, staring at each other as the tension once again builds in the space between. 

When Gladio drags his thumb down over one metal ball, Prompto obliges by circling his ring of muscles with a swirl of lube. In answer, Gladio pinches that pert bud hard enough to draw a rush of color to the surface of his skin. Prompto gasps -- both in sympathy, and at the pressure of his first finger dipping inside his heat. Over and over, trading sighs for moans and flicks for curling digits, they continue like this. Playfully, yes, but there's still a power to it that Prompto really can't get enough of. It's almost as if his hand is being guided by Gladio still, being made to fuck himself by a force greater than himself.

Maybe it's ridiculous, but he's so into it that he's aching inside for more.

Then he remembers -- if he wants something, all he's got to do is use his words. 

"Gladio." Amber eyes widen in interest, and the hand on that thick cock slows to a stop. "I think...I want you to fuck me now." 

Is he surprised to hear the admission? After Prompto was so shy, so nervous all night, what does he think of the bold request suddenly leaving his mouth? Gladio doesn't react right away. But when he does, the proud smile on his lips says it all. 

"And how exactly," he purrs, knees sinking in to the mattress as he climbs up towards Prompto. "Do you want me to fuck you?" 

"Um. Hard?" 

"Hard," he repeats. 

"And fast." 

"Y'know what, baby? I love the way you think." 

The last thing he expects is to be kissed. Hell, he assumed it was part of some kind of unwritten code not to kiss clients. But here Gladio is, lips and tongue sliding against Prompto's own mouth without a shred of reserve. He tastes himself there, a flavor not unlike Gladio's cock yet it startles him all the same. On instinct, he reaches up to cling to broad, tattooed shoulders, and then neither of them stop moving after that. 

Still locked in the kiss, Gladio folds both of Prompto's legs to one side. He swipes his fingers through the generous amounts of lube coating his ass, and pushes a dollop inside of him with his thumb. That, too, slides into the opening there, and Prompto gasps at the unfamiliar intrusion. Deeper, deeper, until it's inside him past the first knuckle. 

Gladio doesn't wait for him to adjust completely before hooking his thumb on the rim and stretching, first one way, then the other. He slows when he feels Prompto tense up, then resumes his work once the blond is back to moaning against his mouth. A few more tugs, a little more lube for good measure, then Gladio's tearing open a condom packet and lining himself up into place.

"You ready?" he asks, though the rough edge in his voice tells Prompto he's about to dive in either way. Still, he manages a weak nod anyway -- and then everything goes white.

It's only for a moment. The initial pressure of that cock, much bigger than just one or two fingers, pushing past his defenses is staggering. Prompto squeezes his eyes shut, digs his nails into Gladio's back and the sheets beneath him alike, until the larger man pauses inside him to catch his breath. Within seconds Gladio is moving again, dragging back out, then thrusting in another inch. Out, in, aided by the lube and Gladio's sheer weight bearing down. 

Several passes later he at last bottoms out. His hips press flush to Prompto's ass, his breath shudders heavily in the thick air. From somewhere near the pillows, Prompto moans his name, and glances back with blue eyes swallowed up in black to beg for more. 

Pale limbs go flying. Prompto is suddenly flipped from his side onto his stomach, his hips lifted up until he can just barely support himself on his knees. Behind him, he senses Gladio readjusting as well -- his dick slips out, lines up at his hole again; large hands take vice-like hold of his hips at his waist. Gladio says something that Prompto can't catch through the fog of lust, and proceeds to drive whatever the message was home as he fucks into him with every ounce of his strength.

His voice drowns out the sounds of the bed creaking, the headboard banging against the wall. Prompto swears he can feel it all the way to his stomach, deeper and hotter and more powerful than any toy he's ever used. Hitting that spot inside him over and over until it feels so good it hurts. It's perfect, he thinks as his cock shoots desperate bursts of white onto the sheets below. This is exactly the kind of sex he's always dreamed of. 

He loses track of how many times he comes by the end. Most of his orgasms are dry, his body spent and his limbs trembling with the effort of holding himself up. If not for Gladio's grip on his hips keeping him in position, he might drop right through the mattress still impaled on that mind-blowing cock. 

Finally, with a behemoth-like groan, Gladio's impressive stamina runs out. He fucks once, twice more into the body beneath him, then collapses forward to pant against Prompto's back. "Six," he swears, breathless. Then, a few heartbeats later: "Hey. You alright down there?" 

Shakily, Prompto shoots him a wordless thumbs up. Never better, he thinks, and means it. 

The next half hour is a groggy blur. From his very comfortable position in the pillows, Prompto hears the shower running briefly down the hall. Gladio returns, his hair damp and his smile tender, to help clean Prompto off with a couple of towels. Considerate and amazing in bed. What a guy. 

Prompto thanks him, of course. But it's with a heavy heart that he watches Gladio turn to get dressed again. While he lays naked and thoroughly satisfied (physically, anyway), that creeping reminder that none of this actually means anything rises to fill his gut with lead. 

Amber eyes seek him out while Gladio tugs on his pants. "You still awake, Prompto?"

So it's back to 'Prompto,' huh? No more 'baby,' no more 'beautiful.' He forces a smile. "Yup. Just enjoying the view." 

A deep chuckle. "Drink it in. You're a changed man now. How does it feel?" 

"Like no one else will ever be as good as you." 

It's meant to be a joke. But even as he says it, his voice breaks. Gladio's hands pause briefly over his zipper, his face unreadable. Then, ever the professional, he resumes his work as if he hadn't just heard that. "…You're gonna wanna take it easy tomorrow, drink lots of water, stuff like that. We went pretty hard tonight. Think of it like your body just ran a marathon." 

Prompto nods, still mentally kicking himself for his slip up.

"And, uh. It'd be helpful if you could rate me. Y’know, on the Honeybee app."

"Y-yeah. Yeah, totally. Five stars all the way, dude. Worth every gil." 

"Thanks." His shirt is pulled on in silence. Can he sense Prompto's mood? Does he care? There's no reason for him to, of course, Prompto knows. This encounter was purely business, a typical night in his line of work, and it's hardly his problem if a client is stupid enough to start to get attached. 

Right? 

And yet…. Gladio is still here, lingering near the foot of the bed as if he can't quite bring himself to leave yet.

"…I know how hard it can be to put yourself out there," he starts. "But you should have more confidence in yourself. A cute guy like you, you could make someone out there real happy, y'know?" 

"O-oh. Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." 

"Seriously. I don't understand how there isn't a line out your door of people waiting to come in and sweep you off your feet." 

Prompto laughs, albeitly bitterly. "Sure. I bet you say that to everyone." 

"No. No, Prompto, I don't." He's looking at him now, something Prompto can't quite interpret tugging at his frown. "I don't usually kiss whoever I'm in bed with, either. Or enjoy myself as much as I did tonight." 

He comes around to the edge of the mattress, where Prompto is now sitting up by the pillows. Blue eyes blink as Gladio nears him. His heart thuds as a warm hand strokes over his cheek, and as full, now-familiar lips swoop in to claim his for the second time that night. It's almost…bittersweet. 

"I've gotta go now. But, well. If you ever need company for the night again--" 

"I know where to find you." 

Gladio smiles. "Good. Cause I kinda don't want to share you with anyone else. Does that make me a hypocrite?"

"Probably," Prompto laughs, and drags him down once more against his lips. "…Thanks for all the dreams come true. Any chance I could book you for next Friday night, too?"

"Heh. For you, beautiful?" Gladio grins into the kiss. "I'll clear my schedule for the rest of the month."


End file.
